


Like the Sun

by jonsasnow



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, R plus L equals J, Sort of AU?, Tumblr Prompts, as fluffy as a cloud, i dont write angsty one shots apparently, jonsa, only when i do novel-lengths lmao, post-season 6
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-21
Updated: 2017-01-21
Packaged: 2018-09-18 23:02:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9406808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jonsasnow/pseuds/jonsasnow
Summary: Jon had not been seen in nearly a sennight. Their people were beginning to feel restless without him. They needed their King – and Sansa needed her Jon.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Another tumblr prompt. This one sent by kissing-the-sun-at-night so thank you!!
> 
> Here's the prompt: Jonsa sharing a bed after his parentage is discovered 
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy it! <3

Jon had not been seen in nearly a sennight. Their people were beginning to feel restless without him. They needed their King – and Sansa needed her Jon. But she was a Stark and she had a duty above all else. Between Ser Davros and her, they had managed to keep everyone occupied with preparing for winter’s more dire months. It was enough for the moment to disguise Jon’s absence as nothing more than the night shivers. An ailment that was frightening enough to have many of the people praying to the old Gods and the new for their king’s safe recovery but not so frightening that it made Winterfell vulnerable to those who might wish it harm. 

After the Bolton’s defeat, Sansa was thankful many of the northern houses had come to swear their allegiance to Jon, even if seeing the faces of those who had denied the same pledge to her true brother made the wolf inside snarl with bloodlust. Sansa was no longer a foolish girl; she knew what game needed playing in these times and she played it well. It was the only thing Petyr Baelish had ever taught her. Their allegiance was needed in these times, more so now with Jon’s absence, and Sansa smiled prettily for the lords who came to see him.

Sansa didn’t mind assuming responsibility at the throne. The constant work distracted her from what truly bothered her most, but by the sixth night, it became harder to ignore. She knew where he was, that had been easy to deduce by the third night, and she had kept the servants away. It was easy to claim grief as her reasoning, for it was grief that had kept her away from those chambers, but truly, it was for him. 

Since reuniting with Jon at Castle Black, Sansa had begun to realise a lot of what she did was for him. Her family was gone, her siblings, her mother, her father – everyone she had ever loved taken from her. Winterfell was her home but in its stony quiet walls, it hardly felt like it anymore. Her comfort, the only one she could draw from this life, was Jon. Her own life meant little to her now. What dreams and hopes Sansa had once had for the future gone the minute she stepped foot out of Winterfell all those years ago, but Jon… Oh, sweet, loving Jon. He could survive this winter. He could bring about peace to their people. He could reunite the north and find a wife; produce heirs and little Starklings that would run through the corridors of this once-great castle. 

Sansa, if she survived, would be married off and taken away from Winterfell once again. 

But the problem was, Sansa would rather die than leave Jon. She would rather face the White Walkers than see him married to someone else. To have little babes with his black hair and some other woman’s eyes – _that_  would kill her. 

The walk to his chamber was quiet. It was the hour of the bat and most safely slumbered in distant rooms. Sansa could remember once as a young girl walking down this same corridor with Robb holding her hand. Jon had become wracked with the fever and the adults had fretted over whether he’d survive the night. Robb wanted to see him and Sansa was too young to understand what it all meant. But she had never visited his chamber again after Mother had caught them. He became Bastard Jon after that. 

Tonight, Sansa couldn’t really say what he was to her anymore. Was he Jon her once-half-brother? Was he Jon her king? Somehow, none of that seemed to matter anymore. What he was mattered so little to her.

Sansa needn’t walk far. Although he may have incurred the wrath of Catelyn Stark, Jon’s chambers had never been far from their own. Father would never have allowed it. She could understand why he had come back here. 

Several seconds after she knocked, Sansa heard movement behind the door, before it opened just a few inches to reveal dark grey eyes looking back at her. His face was shadowed in darkness but she could find those eyes in a storm. “Jon…” 

“I need to be alone, Sansa.” His voice cracked from lack of use but it remained firm and rigid, far from what Sansa had come to know about the man. 

“You have been alone for nearly a sennight,” Sansa said. “You will let me in, Jon Snow, or I will send Ser Davros in my stead.” 

Sensing Sansa was serious, Jon sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. Another second, and he was pulling back the door to let her in.

Upon entering, Sansa found much of the room still in tact, which was a surprise considering the damage that had befallen Winterfell under Ramsay’s reign. But she supposed he had no use of the chambers of a bastard, even if he was one himself. When the door clicked shut behind her, Sansa turned around. Jon stood a couple feet away from her with his arms crossed over his chest. He was in his nightclothes and frowned at her. 

“Why have you come here?” Sansa asked, though she knew the answer. “You should be –” 

“– I do not deserve it.” 

“And I suppose you will wish to step down as Lord of Winterfell.” Sansa mirrored him and crossed her own arms over her chest. 

“I am not a Stark. Only a Stark should sit as lord.” Jon regarded her for another second and added, “or a lady.” 

Sansa crossed the space between him and placed her hands on his forearms. “If you step down then I shall decline it.” The furrow of his brows and flicker of exasperation in his eyes was more telling than what he could ever say. “Jon, you may not be Eddard Stark’s true son but he loved you as one. Is that not enough?”

“I doubt it will be to other houses, Sansa.” 

“Let them say what they will,” Sansa ground out. “But you have forgotten how loyal the people are to you. How the men would ride into battle for you without hesitation. You _are_  their king, whether you are a Stark or a Targaryen.” 

Jon turned his head at the name. He shook his head and backed away from her. “I am neither Stark nor Targaryen. I am a Snow. A bastard.”

“You will still be their king,” Sansa said again. She closed the gap between them once more and placed a hand to his cheek to turn him to face her. “And you will still be my king.” 

Jon appeared frozen under touch but before she could regret it, he began to soften and he leaned into her palm. “Sansa…” He closed his hand over hers and pulled it away to his side. “It is late. You shouldn’t be here.” 

Emboldened maybe the lateness of the hour or maybe by the way his thumb circled the skin on her wrist as he held her, Sansa had to speak her mind before she could think too much on the consequences. “For many moons, I thought the Gods were punishing me for making me feel this way…” 

“Sansa…” 

“I thought it was wrong,” she quickly continued, shutting her eyes and praying for strength. “You may see your name as a betrayal but I… don’t. I see it as my salvation.” 

She didn’t open her eyes lest she saw the horror, or worse, the disgust in his eyes. But she heard him sigh. She felt it, his hot breath fanning across her skin, and that made her wonder how close he was to her if she could feel that. 

“You will be the death of me, Sansa Stark.” 

Her eyes flew open only to flutter close a second later when his lips met hers in a rush to explain what she knew his words couldn’t. Where his eyes had once conveyed so much of what he couldn’t say, Sansa decided his lips were more expressive than if he had written her a song. They spoke of a world where death and heartache could not reach; a world where the sun shone in rays of golden light and where winter roses grew as far as the eye could see. In this world, there was no war; no politics to be played. There was just Jon. Her sweet, loving Jon. The man who made her feel so beautiful and safe; the man whose hands seared fire into her skin wherever he touched. 

Sansa fisted her hands into his tunic and tried to bring him closer, but her boldness stopped him altogether. Jon pulled way and smiled. It was so rare these days to see him smile like this but she knew he saved them for her. It made her heart swell so forcibly she thought it might explode inside her chest.

Jon fingered a tendril of her red hair and tucked it behind her ear. “I once loved a woman kissed by fire,” he said just barely above a whisper. “She died in my arms and I thought I would never know a pain as great as that.” Sansa’s heart stopped swelling and constricted tightly in pain. She wasn’t sure if it was for his loss or for her own jealousy over this unnamed woman. But Jon was speaking and she forced the pain away to listen. “But I thought I was going to die that day.” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Sansa, knowing that I wouldn’t be able to protect you like I promised I would and knowing what would happen to you next, how much you’d hurt – that pain was unbearable.” 

“Come to bed, Jon.” His eyes widened and Sansa smiled in return. She tugged him by the hand until they reached the bed. When she dropped it and slipped in, she knew what kind of risk they were taking here. If someone were to discover them, before the world could learn about his true parentage, both their reputations could be ruined. But as she lay in his bed, she found she didn’t care. 

Eventually, Jon’s inner battle ceased and he climbed into bed with her. Immediately, he pulled her into his side, burying his face into her hair. Nothing had ever felt more right in Sansa’s life than that moment. It was if all the pain and tragedy that had marred her life over the years was needed to lead her to him. She would always grieve for her family and wish to see their faces every day but she needed Jon in a way that surpassed reasoning or understanding.

Sansa turned her body so she faced him. She felt him adjust his hold around her waist and she sidled even closer so that their bodies were pressed together. A different kind of fire burned inside of her and Sansa did her best to tame it. “I love you,” she whispered.

Jon kissed her soundly, _slowly,_  so overwhelmingly that the fire burned even higher than it had before. When Sansa didn’t think she could take any more of it, he stopped and placed a small kiss to the hollow of her neck. Eventually, his breathing began to even out. Sansa thought he had fallen asleep, until finally, she heard, “I love you too.”


End file.
